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BATTERY 
BALLADS 

145tlf 3\tlh ArtUkrg 

(l0t Utali) 



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CAMP KEARNY, CALIF, 



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Copyrighted 1918 

by 

Wallace B. Kelly 

Camp Kearny f Cal. 



1 



Satt^rg Sallabs 



II 



latti?rg S, 145tlj 3wih ArttUrrg 

(1ST UTAH) 

(Uamp Kearng, OlaL 



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OIomptlr& h}| 
anb 

19ia 



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This book is respectfully 
dedicated to Wagoner Eugene 
Slusser by his comrades of 
Battery E, in honor of his de- 
parture from the Battery and 
to his memory. 



APR i5i3l8 

©GLA494 5 93 ^ 






3tinmixxh 



This book is compiled from a 
number of original poems written by 
the members and ex-members of 
Battery E, 145th F. A. They were 
written and read by their authors 
on the eve of the departure of 
Wagoner Eugene Slusser, who left 
the Battery because of defective 
hearing. . 

The poems show a decided trend 
toward originality and in many cases 
are feeble utterances from the depths 
of the hearts of Wagoner Slusser's 
comrades. 

COMPILERS. 



But a few days following the declara- 
tion of war with Germany, E Battery of 
the 145th Artillery (Utah), began its ex- 
istence. Through the .efforts of Former- 
Senator Thomas Kearns, Colonel John C. 
Waterman, inspector-instructor of the 
western department and other men high in 
military circles in Utah at the time, the 
organization was founded. It owes its 
origination to these men. The battery is 
formed almost entirely of college students 
and young business men from the Beehive 
State and when the call was sent out for 
recruits to fill its ranks the flower of 
young manhood immediately responded. 
Within a few days the organization was 
completed and a list of men waiting 
anxiously for a vacancy to occur that they 
might be included upon its roster. 

It was the original idea of Senator 
Kearns and others who were interested 
in its foundation to form a machine gun 
company of volunteers and present the 
organization to the National Guard of 
Utah. The plans were turned over to 
Lieutenant Aaron Hardy and he immedi- 
ately started recruiting. The success of 
filling the ranks so quickly with the best 
of Utah manhood is due in a large way 
to Thomas F. Kearns, Jr., Raymond C. 
Taylor, J. Charles Conlon, Hebe B. Young 
and other young men who worked untir- 
ingly in recruiting. 

It was later found that a machine gun 
company could not be utilized by the 
National Guard of Utah which had re- 
cently been reorganized into an artillery 



regiment and the plans for the machine 
gun company were changed and turned 
into a battery of artillery. The organiza- 
tion was then presented, designated as E 
Battery and placed in command of Cap- 
tain Fred T. Gundry. Within a few days, 
however. Captain Gundry was chosen as 
regimental adjutant and Captain Alex. R. 
Thomas given command. 

The members were mustered into fed- 
eral service with other organizations of 
the regiment on August 5, 1917, at the 
Pierpont Street Armory in Salt Lake City 
and moved to Fort Douglas where a camp 
was established, under command of Colo- 
nel Richard W. Young. Here they learned 
their first lessons as soldiers and October 
10 left Salt Lake bound for Camp Kearny, 
Cal., to undergo intensive instruction in 
preparation for overseas service. While 
here. Captain Thomas was promoted to 
major and Captain A. A. Meyers given 
command . 

At this date — March 25, 1918 — fully 
trained and anxiously awaiting the call to 
aid in pushing the Stars and Stripes into 
the heart of Berlin the members of E 
Battery are probably on the eve of leaving 
for the European battlefields. The eyes 
of the State of Utah will be turned upon 
the flower of Utah manhood in the next 
few months when they line up against the 
Kaisers' millions to do their part in 
making democracy safe within the world. 




ROSTER OF BATTERY E. 



Commissioned Officers 

Captain — A. A. Meyers 



First Lieutenant — 

M. L. Young- 
First Lieutenant — 

Theodore Peterson 
Second Lieutenant — 

Edgar Johnston 



Second Lieutenant — 
Norman Salisbury 

First Sergeant — 
J. E. Mulvey 

Supply Sergeant — 
Wayne Corbis 



Sergeants 

Pearson, Wm. Randall, Leslie 

Richins, Arnold Kelly, "Wallace B. 

Snow, E. P. Mulvey, Frank E. 

Timpson, Lawrence Howard, William F. 

Bloomquist, A. E. 

Corporals 

Dahlquist, Scott A. Taylor, Ray 

Willey, T. A. 

Childs, G. P. 

Ferguson, F. 

Latimer, Wm. 

Mays, Harold R. 

O'Brien, Wm. S. 

Whitney, Chauncey 

Willey, Price 

Caird, Chauncey 

Childs, S. N. 



Blackhurst, Hyrum 
Elwood, E. A. 
Hainey, Frank 
Manes, L. A. 
Evans, Sidney 
Taylor, F. D. 
AVhitney, W. W. 
Winter, Alex. 
Young, S. D. 



Schuring, H. R. 
Anderson, Geo. R. 
Call, David 



Cooks 

Parr, J. L. 
Bamgerter, E. 
Bryson, Conway 



Mechanics 



Chief- 
Fred L. Rampton 

Chief— 

Royal Howe 

Watkin's, Richard 

Osborne, Frank 



Bowman, Robert 
Kirton, Jos. M. 
Saddler — 

BreAver, A. A. 
Asst. Saddler — 

I'arber, Harry 



Beatie, Nelson R. 
Card, Earl F. 
Carnmeron, L. P. 
Decker. Mortimer 
Geoghegan, John 
Gumbman, Emil 
Hinckley, H. C. 



Wagoners 



Houdyshell, Wm. M. 
Peterson, Andrew M. 
Rasmussen, H. J. 
Stauffer, H. 
Young, Dale 
Bruce, J. A. 



Wright, A. A. 
Paxman, Samuel 



Buglers 

Miller, L. L. 
Tucker, Stephen 



Privates — First Class 



Ahrens, Walter Q. 
Ament, Vernon J. 
Anderson, C. R. 
Baird, Samuel 
Brinton, Donal 
Burke, Morris 
Burnham, Elmer 
Birmingham, C. 
Candland, A. L. 
Cope, Wm. 
Child, H. L. 
Conlon, J. C. 
Cowley, Murray- 
Dunbar, Hugh 
Emery, H. 
Folkerson, G. W. 
Frank, F. 
Fox, George R. 
Garrett, A. T. 
Garrett, Chas. R. 
Haeckel, N. J. 
Hanson, R. 
Harper, R. J. 
Hatch, H. J. 



Heath, George 
Heilbut, P. S. 
Hepworth, R. 
Jones, F. P. 
Kimball, C. 
La Force, Thamer 
Lee, Edmund 
Lewis, E. H. 
Newman, J. L, 
Paul, A. H. 
Powell, R. 
Petty, G. G. 
Richardson, N. 
Roberts, L. M. 
Rowland, M. 
Smith. J. C. 
Smith, W. E. 
Stephens, V. 
Vincent, Geo. H. 
Williams, V. 
Young, H. B. 
Young, L. H. 
Young, Henry 



Privates 



Ahlander, Einer 
Alder, Paul 
Anderson, D. H. 
Barlow, LaMar 
Barnes, Horace 
Barr, Elree 
Baughman, C. I. 
Berry, Leland A. 
Boozalis, J. P. 
Briggs, Fred. G. 
Browne, A. L. 
Buch, Leo 
Brown, H. K. 
Bills, M. 
Brown, G. G. 
Davidson, Geo. A. 
Davies, Garfield 
Day, Leonard 
Debenham, H. L. 
Duncan, Fred. J. 
Elton, A. 

Hicks, Harrington 
Huston, H. D. 



Jacobson, Claude 
Jensen, R. 
Jones, George 
Jeppson, J. E. 
Johanson, Julius 
Jones, H. D. 
King, Lorenzo 
Larson, Jos. 
Lewis, A. V. 
Lewis, J. D. 
Luff, Paul 
Miller, A. R. 
Morris, R. P. 
Meilstrup, J. D. 
McMillan, Robt. 
Nelson, C. L. 
Nelson, J. H. 
Neilson, Wilford 
Newton, Clifford 
Newton, Norman 
Osquthorpe, Jos. 
Parham, L. S. 
Parkins, Lewis 



Parks, Stanzius 
Phillips. A. W. 
Perry, M. D. 
Palmer, J, P. 
Robinson, A. G. 
Reeves, D. P. 
Richins, J. E. 
Richardson, Wallace 
Sleater, J. F. 



Stewart, R. D. 
Stteed, Rulon 
Swenson, W. E. 
Turkelson, H. 
Thomas, Steele 
West, A. C. 
Wright, P. G. 
Winters. L. G. 
Young-, L. D. 



Transferred and Promoted 



Major A. R. Thomas 
First Lieut. William 

Campbell 
First Lieut. Geo. R. 

Barron 
First Lieut. Charles 

Woodruff 
First Lieut. Ray A. 

Young 



Second Lieut. E. W. 
Rand 

Second Lieut. H. Jen- 
nings 

Second Lieut. M. P. 
Mulvey 

Second Lieut. Earl 
Evans 

Sgt. Major Andrew 
Gorey 



Transferi'ed 



Sgt. L. H. Evans Pvt. 

Sgt. Tom Kearns Pvt. 

Sgt. Sep. Shepherd Pvt. 

Sgt. Lund Pvt. 

Sgt. Tannenbaum Pvt. 

Sgt. Bow en Pvt. 

Sgt. Shepherd Pvt. 

Corp. K. Clawson Pvt. 

Corp. E. T. Mulvey Pvt. 

Corp. J. C. Evans Pvt. 

Corp. J. B. Smith Pvt. 

Corp. Horigan Pvt. 

Pvt. Fischer Pvt. 

Pvt. Nelson, T. Pvt. 

Discharged 

Wagoner S 1 u s s e r, 

Eugene 
Pvt. Barnes, Cleve. 
Pvt. Sessions, Robt. 
Pvt. Young, Murray 



Mullett, F. 
Miles, E. 
Sauter, F. 
Ryan, Al. 
Lewis 

Emery, M. P. 
Squires, L. 
Anderson, G. W. 
Mildenhall 
Cofferal 
Nelson, C. 
Rich, Don 
Clawson, H. 
Chandler. F. 



Pvt. Pils, Leopold 

Pvt. Spence, Ben. 

Pvt. Taylor, R. M. 

Pvt. Grow, Melvin 

Pvt. Armstrong, Lee 



Deceased 



Kupfer, Ted 



10 



la^tttH 



"TIM" 

(A tribute to F. A. Timmerman, Salt Lake 
Tribune war correspondent, by Corp. 
William O'Brien) 

Here's to Tim, 

To Press Agent Tim — 

What would E Battery be 

Without him — 

Camera toting, 

Private promoting, 

Bath room rumor floating — 

Salt Lake Trib Tim? 

For we're smeared with gobs of glory 
Every time Tim writes a story 
And the folks back home feel sorry 
For the Deutsch who know us not; 
When we get there they'll feel certain 
'Twill be time to drop the curtain. 
With disaster "Bill" is flirtin', 
He'll be kicked all o'er the lot. 

Supreme B. S. maker — 
Sublime nature faker — 
Exalted hop taker — 
Salt Lake Trib Tim. 

By Bill O'Brien. 



13 



REVEILLE 

There's a call that breaks forth in the 

morning, 
A call that even Slusser obeys, 
And one that brings him forth unwilling 
From his paradise of Hay. 

It not only brings an end to his slumber. 

For its shriek has a terrible pang, 

It brings an end to his dreams 

Of the dreams he alone understands. 

He may have been back in the old town 
With those whom he used to call pals, 
And perhaps his pockets did jingle 
And he was out with the pretty gals. 

He may have been with his sweetheart 
In a place held sacred by both. 
For it was there that he caressed her 
Before the day he took his oath. 

Perchance he was returning with his bat- 
tery. 
Marching down Zion's thoroughfare; 
On his heaving chest there hung a medal 
And, oh, how the crowds did cheer. 

Then out shrieks that call, the call of hell. 
And his paradise is brought to an end. 
And he thinks to himself of a saying true, 
"Oh death, where is thy sting?" 

But now, Gene, old boy, the days are 

numbered 
When you need have no fear of the call, 
For on the morrow we bid you farewell, 

Gene — 
Alec, E Battery and All. 

Pvt. Geo. Vincent. 



14 



HEADQUARTERS HASH 

Here's to Headquarters and the Sacred 

Cow — 
All day long a continual howl. 
First it's "Headquarters all out" and 

"Band fall in" — 
The way they treat us is certainly a sin. 

Mr. Kammerad, the Paperhanging King, 

The Camouflage Officer 

With the Manti Ring, 

And C. J. Hawkins, who never misses a 

cue, 
Certainly raises hell with the boys' Fat-i- 

gue. 

If you poor ill-fed babies of Battery E 
Could only change places one day with me 
You surely would be glad to get back 

home once more. 
After eating those stews of the Headquar- 
ters store. 

Hash for breakfast, stew for lunch, 
More stew for supper time. 
Three times a day, six days a week. 
That's just the way we dine. 
So remember this, thou well-fed crew: 
Don't transfer here if you can't eat stew. 
Corp. Emmett Mulvey. 



15 



THE STABLES 

An Ode to the Horses — How We Hate 'Em 

'Twas one night at retreat, 

And the gang all had their treat 

And the Boys were glad — yes. Very Glad. 

Sergeant Jack saw me there 

And his words were of despair 

And he made me sad — yes, very sad. 

In a voice which was gruff. 

And I knew 'twas not a bluff. 

He said, "That detail needs more 

Exercise. 

To the stables you will go, 

And the horses you will tow 

To the water every morning at Sunrise." 

To my tent then I went 
And a weary night I spent, 
Thinking of my duties getting odder. 
There was Scotty, Neat and Naughty 
Who could feed the horses fodder. 
And in hunting high and low. 
In the bath room found Philo, 
And I put him mixing bran 
To feed our friend, "Bucking Sam." 
To this he put his strength, 
And it stretched him out full length 
On a wagon with music very slow — yes, 
Very Slow! 

Goodbye to dear old G. P. 

He was there at each entreaty 

In the early days of yore. 

But ere the morning came 

I could see the Cutter's game. 

For at Philo he was sore — yes, Very Sore. 

My soldier's self was better. 

And I kept myself in fetter. 

And when our duty new began, 

16 



Instead of Scotty (who was neat 
But very naughty) feeding fodder 
As before, and Philo mixing bran, 
I will close my eyes in Slumber 
And my dreams of "sawing lumber" 
Will tell him of my worrj^ — yes, my 
Worry, nothing more. 

Sgt. W. B. Kelly. 



A MIGHTY GOOD MAN 

Here's to Gene Slusser, 

Who is a mighty good man. 

Who has a black mustache. 

And his complexion is tan. 

Gene, we will miss you 

When you leave us tomorrow. 

And all of our hearts will be filled with 

sorrow. 
But never mind. Gene, you tried your 

best. 
And we know you would fight the same 

as the rest; 
So cheer up, old boy, and do your part 

at home. 
For leave it to me, I'll bring back the 

Kaiser's dome. 

Abie Biirke. 



17 



RUMORS 

(Apologies to the author) 

Say, son, I said to my bunkie 

As I noticed the frown on his face, 

You're looking all in, you're worried, 

you're thin; 
Can't you stand the gaff or the pace? 

Oh Gee! he sighed, and he grunted, 
I just took a walk through the camp; 
The rumors I've heard and the reports 

quite absurd 
Have given me chills and the cramps: 
"We leave for Russia tomorrow; 
In Italy soon we will be; 
In a month we will be helping England 
To fight and drink up her tea; 
Two suits of O.D.'s are coming, 
With side arms and motor bikes, too. 
And wrist clocks for each buck private; 
Wait a minute, I am not half through — 
Tobacco will be furnished gratis 
By a banker with money galore. 
And each man in camp gets a five-buck 

raise — " 
I turned and I dashed for the door; 
Poor bunkie, the rumors had crazed him; 
If I stayed they'd be sure getting me, 
But the last one I heard was surely a 

bird- 
Each non-com must serve on K. P. 

Wagoner Hinckley. 



18 



A FAREWELL TO MY OLD 
WAGONER 

Gene, old boy, you must leave us, 

Our paths they now divide. 
So we must say farewell to you. 

But our gloom we cannot hide. 
We are losing a true and loyal friend, 

Who was ready and willing to fight. 
But who, through not a fault of his own. 

Must leave the bunch tonight. 

When the whole world stood in danger 

Of a ruthless tyrant's might, 
Men rushed to arms with lusty cheers. 

To battle for the right. 
Gene Slusser was no slacker. 

His hand was held up high, 
To strike a blow for freedom 

He would gladly fight or die. 

We know it is not cowardice 

That sends him from our band; 
We know he joined to do his bit 

In a foreign, war-torn land. 
We lose a trusted, time-tried friend. 

But happy may he be. 
May success be his at every turn. 

Is the wish of Battery "E." 

Sergeant A. C. Richins. 



BURDENED WITH SORROW 

Slusser, we're burdened with sorrow 
To learn that you leave us tomorrow. 

But nevertheless, 

You're happy, I guess; 
Di de de, di de de, te de dorrow. 

Salina Pete. 

19 



WISH THAT I WERE YOU 

I hate to see you leave, old friend, 
It makes me kinda blue. 
This damned old war will never end. 
So wish that I were you. 

You'll soon be up in Frisco town. 
Dressed in a swell new suit; 
Drinking ail good liquor down, 
Oh, root te de root, te de toot. 

And while we are over in France, Old 

Sluss, 
We will think of you every day 
And wish to hell that all of us 
Were with you near old Frisco Bay, 

Wagoner Andrew Peterson. 



GOOD-BYE TO THE THREE-INCH 
PIECE 

Say, old gun, I hate to lose you. 

You're a fighter, through and through; 
And if we go into battle, 

I would like to go with you. 
But they say the 4.7 

Will replace you in our park, 
Tho I'd gladly trade its thunder 

For the echo of your bark. 

Yes, it's soon "good-bye," old warrior, 

Orders have to be obeyed, 
For we're soldiers, it's our duty. 

It's the way the game is played. 
But the lesson you have taught us 

We will practice on the Hun 
And we'll send the first shell over 

For our good old Three-inch Gun. 

Gmmer "Bill'' O'Brien. 
20 



GAS 

I am sitting in the mess hall tonight, 

And, as usual, can't think what to write. 
But all of a sudden, an idea, alas, 

I've been to instruction, all about 
"Gass." 
It's mighty funny, this Chlorine, 

And its action on man is very mean. 
A couple of whiffs get in your snout. 

Then a couple of huskies carry you out. 
And the Lachrymatory Gas makes you cry. 

Because it acts directly on the eye. 
Phosgene Gas is called "delayed," 

Because when its function it has played 
Into the lungs it has found its way. 

And you can bet it's there to stay. 
One attacked with this Gas soon 

Knows that he has met his doom. 
But with this little rubber mask. 

Which, to make was quite a task, 
And which has withstood a very hard 
test, 

Has turned out to be the very best. 
So with this mask it will be fun 

To down the "Kaiser" and the Hun. 
♦*Kete" Candland. 



OUR SAD FAREWELL 

He has only been with us for six months' 
time, 
But that was sufficient to find he was 
prime; 
And now in saying our sad farewell 

We wish him luck till we all meet in 
h— 1. 

Chief Mechanic Howe. 
(Ed. Note. Mechanics as a rule are not 
poets. ) 

21 



PATRIOTISM 

'Twas upon a midnight dreary. 
When of smoking I had wearied 
And my thoughts were idly basking 
'Pon the life at Kearny by the Sea, 
When I thought of all the movies 
Which portrayed the silken boobies 
Like Soldier Lads, just the same as you 

and me. 
We like poor, senseless creatures, 
Care not for our sunburnt features 
When we let the doorman meet us with 

a sneer. 
He knows us well — yes, too well; 
For our breeches and our blouses seem 

to tell. 
We are picked at once for suckers, 
And are known as old trench muckers 
To the Public of San Diego Vill. 

Each palpitating glutton 

Was as shiny as a button; 

And the cost was far above him, 

And the wise guy whispered never more. 

And as home again we wander 

With our money spent in squander, 

With the vows of all good soldiers 

When our little dream is o'er; 

Now when to bed I roll and the blankets 
they are cold 

And my heart is very sore, yes, very sore, 

My hatred turns toward places 

That would eat the horses' traces. 

And we stop and figure upon the bath- 
room floor. 

For when I think of eats my pulse it 
jumps four beats. 

And like the raven in the story. 

Softly murmur never more. 

Sergeant W. B. Kelly. 
22 



KEEP IT DARK 

I know a guy who knows a bird 

That one dark night in a cafe heard 

A waiter whisper to a gink 

That he heard a Chaplain, full of drink, 

Say to a Colonel cleaning his boot 

That a cannoneer with a turned-up snoot. 

While orderly for a Corporal, said 

To the General who made his bed 

That a Second "Louie" of Battery G 

Said to a Sarg, with housemaid's knee, 

Of a Major, who told as he borrowed a 

chew 
Of a great K. P., who had the dope 
From a guy that stole poor Routestep's 

soap. 
That a Captain said to an N. C. O., 
As he asked him for a week's furlough. 
That the Camouflage artist who pressed 

his pants 
Knew just when the Battery leaves for 

France. 

Gunner "Bill" O'Brien. 



GOOD OLD SLUSS 

Good old Sluss, the boys, they say, 

Leaves us tomorrow, but I say Nay, 
For he always will be with us in thought 
After bloody battles in France are 
fought. 
And when we return from o'er the deep 
blue 
And grasp the hands of the fellows we 
knew. 
Do society, and make a big fuss, 

We all will inquire. Where is old Sluss? 
Sergeant Randall. 

23 



QUARANTINE 

In these days of censorship 
Mum's the word on every lip; 
Careful with this news to-wit: 
They say Kaiser Bill has quit. 

Secrecy and camouflage, 
Mystery and other dodge 
Guard it well, this newsy bit: 
Hark, Old Bill, the Kaiser's quit. 

For Bill, you know, so very fair, 

Tho raven black his homely hair, 

Was deadly under his blue face; 

He swore extinction of a race. 

He hated the Allies v/ith a lasting hate; 

Oh, pity the boys if he were fate. 

Day by day Old Bill would train 
To learn how best to smash a brain, 
Night after night he'd tear his hair. 
Thinking some Allies might be there. 
He jabbed, he parried, he gas attacked 
Till he thought they had their nuts all 

cracked. 
And if ferocious words could kill 
The Allies here would end Kaiser Bill. 

But the Allies they came and sawed 

him up. 
They fed his eyes to a yellow pup. 
And, when fatigued with their work of 

fright, 
They would grease their hate till late at 

night. 

The Germans here, will let me say, 
Tremble in fear of the dreadful day 
When Battery E the terrible goes across; 
Think of their joy if they knew our loss. 

24 



So mum's the word on every lip, 

Guard it well, don't let it slip. 

How happy the Huns if they knew this 

bit; 
How sad we are Kaiser Bill has quit. 

A. H. Paul. 



GENE 

Goodbye, Gene, goodbye; 

The time has come to part. 

We go to France to do or die, 

But we leave you, Gene, so true of heart. 

Oh, how you were liked. Gene, 
And we'll miss your cheerful way; 
We'll think of you a lot. Gene, 
At the close of every day. 

We know you did your best. Gene, 

We know you're brave and true 

As any man in this country 

Who fought for the Red, White and Blue. 

We're all to meet again. Gene, 
When we've helped to win the fray; 
So don't forget us boys. Gene, 
For we'll meet on a brighter day. 

Wag. Geoghegan. 



25 



TO MARY— ROSE OF THE WOOD 

(Out of the deep regard each soldier 
holds for the sweetheart of his fellow 
soldier, this tribute from Corporal El- 
wood to the pilot star of Slusser's lone- 
some life.) 

Sweeter than the sweet roses 
As they linger in the garden fair. 
When under artful noses 
You send your glances rare. 

Fairer than the fairest, 

Cuter than the cutest. 

Rarer than the rarest. 

Supreme among the rose you reign. 
Thou Flower Lady of my song; 
Without blemish, without stain. 
Alone you stand above the wrong. 

Pretty wild rose of the wood. 

The majestic queen of the spring. 

Oft by your side I stood, 

Listing while the angels sing. 
Prettier than the prettiest. 
Sweeter than the sweetest, 
Purer than the purest. 

O, rose so fair, farewell to thee. 
Hark, hear my country calling. 
One fond embrace, my rose Marie, 
Hark, hear the footsteps falling. 

Corporal Elwood. 



26 



LITTLE DEAR 

Sluss, old boy, we hate to lose you, 
For we know you'll miss some fun 

While we hunt old Fritz, the Kaiser, 
And the dirty German Hun. 

We're sorry you're not going with us 

To do battle with the host. 
For when Fritz sees us coming 

He will sure give up the ghost. 

Corporal "As You Were" Latimer. 



COO-KOO 

"Oh, I love to go on K. P.," 

Said the soldier to his mate, 
"And I like to clean the bathroom, 

And I think fatigue is great. 
And I dote on building sidewalks, 

Or digging the old gun pit; 
And the cleanup for inspection 

Makes with me an awful hit." 

So they gave him an M. D. 

And they placed him in a home 
Where they keep such raving lunatics 

And never let them roam. 
For the soldier lad that loves to work 

Is balmy in the dome. 

Gunner "Bill" O'Brien. 



27 



THE BASE HOSPITAL 

It was in Medical Six 

I found myself in a fix. 

They put me in bed 

With some ice on my head, 

And a temperature of one-0-six. 

The very next day, 

As on my back I lay. 

The Doctor came to me. 

"Count one, two, three 

And take a deep breath," sez he. 

I did the first and then I cursed 

As a breath I tried to draw. 

"Don't hold it," he said; 

And something broke loose in my head. 

The devil's tatoo he played, 

And on my poor back, I'm afraid. 

He found many places 

In which there were traces 

Of lobar pneumonia, be Jasus. 

At night it was fierce; 

The pains they would pierce 

My sides, my chest and my lungs. 

Someone would moan and then I would 

groan, 
"Oh, why did I ever leave home?" 

After two weeks on water 

I told them they oughter 

Give me something a little bit thicker. 

So I had some eggs and I had some toast; 

The eggs, I believe, I hated the most. 

After thirty long days, 

To my great amaze. 

They told me to get up and walk. 

28 



But to my disgust, I find I can't trust 

Those jelly bones I used to call legs. 

So here I will stay. 

How long I can't say; 

But this I certainly know. 

When I get out with a song and a shout 

On a thirty-day furlough I'll go. 

So here's to the doctor, 

A very fine fellow; 

And here's to the nurses (they save a 

lot of curses) 
And help a fellow pull through. 
And here's to the orderly, too; 
He helps you feel happy, an awfully good 

chappie, 
With nothing at all to do. 

P. S. Heilbut. 



A SOLDIER'S SOLILOQUY 

The day was long and hot and dreary, 
The dust rose up and the sun made one 

weary. 
The O. D.'s clung like a mourner's pall 
And at every step the sweat drops fell. 
Tell me not to drill by numbers. 
For the soldier's dead that slumbers 
And the glory's not what we dreamed. 
The Army's real, the Army's earnest, 
But from dust thou goest, and to dust 

returneth. 
That you perish from this earth. 

Corporal L. A. Manes. 



29 



THEY'RE BORN, NOT MADE 

(We agree with Scotty, and also have a 
hunch that Scotty's folks intended him 
for the ministry or something — anything 
but a poet.) 

Poets are born, not made, 

So to try my hand I was afraid. 

But to sing the praises of a fellow soldier 
Made me feel considerable bolder. 

It was back in the balmy days of '17, 
When to each other we strangers did 
seem ; 
But it only required an hour to know 
That we'd all be together for the rest 
of the show. 

It was August the fifth, at nine in the 
morn, 
When into the federal service we were 
sworn. 
Among the good men who were first to 
appear 
Was old Gene Slusser, who then could 
hear. 
After a week of drill at the park 

We went to Fort Douglas, we thought 
for a lark. 
It was thought to Kearny we soon would 
go. 
But we soon learned our going was 
slow. 

Finally, however, our departure was an- 
nounced, 
So we thought we would soon have 
the Germans trounced. 
But, alas, it was only a dream or a rumor, 
Or else we would have left here sooner. 

30 



But when we got to Camp Kearny fair 
We all let out a cry of despair, 

For old Gene Slusser got a bad ear. 

And now his day of discharge is here. 
Corporal Scott Dalquist. 



THE DAWN OF DAY 

(Don't know about that dawn of day stuff, 
"Piggy" — you'd best stick to the piano) 

The boy is leaving tomorrow 
And we sure hate to see him go; 
We feel for him and his sorrow 
When we leave to meet the foe. 

He was sure enough a good fellow, 
His ways were so cheerful and gay. 
And his wit was carefree and mellow 
Like the east at the dawn of day. 

And when this old war is over 
The boys will come marching home; 
We'll see you amidst flowers and clover 
And joy will come out of the gloom. 

Private W. E. Smith. 



Many men leave for home on account 
of S. C. D.'s and the above is a feeble ef- 
fort of a soldier lad to picture their sor- 
row in leaving. — Compilers. 



31 



BACK TO THE LAND OF 
MEMORY 

So you're going away tomorrow, Sluss, 

Away from Battery E; 

Away from the army and all of us 

To the land of Memory — 

The dreamy land of memory, 

The sweet sad land of memory, 

The far-away land of memory — 

With thoughts of Battery E. 

Ah, you'll think of us, Sluss, 

And we'll think of you 

When you're gone from Battery E, 

And we'll often wonder what you'll do, 

In the land of Memory — 

The fanciful land of memory. 

The heart throb land of memory. 

The Look-back land of memory — 

When you're thinking of Battery E. 

In the years to come, when the v/ar is won 
And there is no more Battery E, 
We'll tell of you to our favorite sons 
In that land of Memory — 
The beautiful land of memory. 
The recalling land of memory. 
The hoped-for land of memory — 
Where we talk of Battery E. 

Private A. Paul. 



32 



s. o. s. 

(Same Old Stuff) 

Listen, Jack, why always pick on me? 

Wednesday all day I did K. P. 
Twelve hours diving pearls over a sink — 

That's a swell holiday, I don't think. 

Guard I walked over Saturday and Sun- 
day, 
I wonder why I never pick a Monday. 
For the Supes and the Corps, it's just a 
bluff. 
But for me on a post I'll say it's tough. 

Wednesday, the old dividend the army 
declared. 
To be brief, my time with the horses 
I shared; 
Some lost to chance, some to the ladies 
fair. 
These ain't my lines, but maybe I'd 
like to be there. 

This has happened for quite a while; 
And Jack, I know it ain't my style; 

I'm not quitter, you know well; 

But if you don't lay off, I'm going to 
raise h — 1. 

(Contributed to Slusser's Farewell Poem 
Bee by Mr. and Mrs. Frank's oldest 
and brightest, Fredrick Ellsworth. The 
veterans will remember him better as 
"The Gump.") 



33 



THAT MAN, THE KAISER 

It was in the month of April, 
When life was well worth living, 
But France was in the conflict 
And her life's blood she was giving. 
America will never forget 
The debt to France she owes 
And offered all her resources 
To down her treacherous foes. 

'Twas then we all enlisted 

To aid this noble cause 

And bring the man to censor 

That regarded no man's laws, 

For he with only victory in view 

Had set the world aflame 

And thought that he could master all 

And make the world his claim. 

It was then the President ordered 

"Ten million men by spring." 

The words were as a trumpet's blast. 

The very air did ring. 

Ten million men we should have had. 

Two million men we've got, 

Ten million men were possible. 

The rest was Tommyrot. 

Then we were ordered to the Narrows, 
Thence Ft. Douglas on the Hill. 
There we spent two months of torture, 
Grooming horses and foot drill; 
Already we were weary of the strenuous 

army stuff, 
And we cussed the Kaiser daily, 
Yet prepared to meet his bluff. 



34 



Then we journeyed to Camp Kearny 
And have been here ever since; 
Still we hope to get the Kaiser 
And his oldest son, the Prince; 
All we ask is that the country 
Send us over right away, 
That we may join our allies. 
And make the Kaiser pay. 

H. B. Youiig. 



THE GALLANT THIRD 

We went to this war in a body, 

The finest the land had to give, 

And were all placed as one in a section 

To learn this great game and live. 

Some of us came from the fussers. 
Others from out of deep mines, 
And even the pool hall and schoolroom 
Contributed their best to the line. 

But we all work as one when together, 
And thus help the great cause along, 
And thought to continue forever. 
But fate put a stop to our song. 

So before we are broken and scattered, 
I wish to prepare a good toast 
To the best bunch of fellows together, 
Whose memory is now but a ghost. 

Corporal C. B. AVhitney. 



35 



THE FIRST SERGEANT 

I hear the boys of Battery E 

Are going to have a oem bee. 
This bit of news I overheard 

From a buck private of the Gallant 3rd, 
I knovs^ my name will be mentioned often, 

And the things they'll say will sure be 
rotten; 
I'll be called everything under the sun. 

But what care I when it's all in fun. 

The boys will kick at stables and guard, 
We all have to do it, no matter how 
hard ; 
K.P., of course, each man in his turn, 
And if you're green, of Bill Pearson 
you'll learn. 
I would not like to see in black and white 
What some of the boys call me each 
night; 
I've heard some phrases uttered around 
here 
That, honest, I wouldn't let the Devil 
hear. 

You get called things at Reveille, you get 
it at Retreat, 
You get them at the first call and some 
are hard to beat; 
If you are looking for a detail, everyone 
will duck, 
And if you say, "Slusser, fall out," you 
sure are out of luck, 
For Slusser, he will beat it and to the rear 
will go, 
And the next time you will see him will 
be at the K. C. show. 
It is not only Slusser, the majority are the 
same. 



And if you have to punish them, they 
never are to blame. 

The Corporal told me so and so, the Ser- 
geant he said this, 
And of all the excuses, it sure keeps you 
amiss. 
And then they often wonder why you are 
so hard-boiled, 
When they know you are ridden by the 
Captain for something they have 
spoiled. 
If they would try and help you, and do as 
they are told. 
And every man at his job, and every 
one take hold. 
How much nicer we would get along — the 
kicking it would go, 
Everything would run smoothly, and this 
fact we all know. 

So let's try and get together and do our 
level best, 
To tary and help the poor Top Kick, for 
his job has no rest; 
And when the judgment day has come, 
and each man answers here. 
And when the last roll call is heard, no 
man need ever fear 
When called to answer for his sins, com- 
mitted ere he croaked, 
He can speak up with a kindling eye, "I 
helped the old 'Top Soak.' " 

By First Sergeant *'Jack" Mulvey, 
Batteiy **E'* 



37 



HERE'S ALL THE LUCK IN 
THE WORLD 

(A tribute to 'Gene on his departure from 

I hear you are leaving tomorrow? 
Well, Old Boy, I wish you luck. 
If old "E" loses many more like you 
I'm afraid she will be stuck. 

I know I'd hate to leave this bunch. 
Though I've often raved and pouted 
I want to go home — but home with the 

bunch, 
And after the Huns are routed. 

I'll bet you feel the same way, Jazz, 
And you hate like sin to leave, 
But have a heart. Old Scout, cheer up, 
For there's more than you will grieve. 

Why, the gang will every one miss you, 
From the Skipper down to the "Buck," 
And they'll all have but a single thought. 
And that's to wish you luck. 

And there's one thing more before you go: 
Remember now you're a "cit" 
And it's up to you, if you feel that way, 
You've a perfect right to get lit. 

And you remember the battery drinking 

team — 
You held a commission, I thiuK — 
And you know through six horrible months 

of drouth 
Not a one of them got a drink. 

But now it seems you're the lucky one. 
And you go where there's plenty of beer; 
So we're all serene, for we know you're 

the man 
That will keep the team's name clear. 
38 



But don't forget when you're hoisting 
And the spirits flow fast and free, 
Just wran yourself around an extra one 
And drink it for "E" and me. 

And after the horn is all mended 
And you're ready again to enlist, 
You've got to get back to Battery "E" — 
That's one thing on which we insist. 

You've waited too long for the discharge 
And the old ear has been giving you hell. 
But go grab for yourself a good specialist 
And it's a cinch you will soon be well. 

We all know it's the ear that's taking 

you off, 
And when tomorrow's flag's unfurled 
Pin the ears 'way back and listen to this: 
Here's all the luck in the world. 

By Coiijoral J. C. Coiilon. 



EAGER "FOR FAIR 

First to enlist, Uncle Sam to assist 
In putting things straight o'er the sea, 
"Were those men that you saw, with the 

brave First Utah," 
Those men forming Battery E; 
Eager for fair to be shipped over there 
And help bring this strife to an end. 
Then as Battery E to come back o'er the 

sea, 
Is their fondest hope, I'll contend. 

Sergeant La^vrence Timpson. 



SLACKER— THINK IT OVER 

Slacker, you sit in your easy chair. 
Thanking the Lord you are not over there 
Where the cannon roar and the brave rnen 

die. 
And dying, perhaps unburied lie. 

You may have purchased a bond or two 
And imagined that is enough to do, 
But some day, after the v/ar is done, 
And victorj^ by the brave is won, 

You'll see men sneer as they pass you by 
And you'll wish you had not been afraid 

to die; 
For what is the life of a coward worth 
When he hasn't a friend on the lonely 

earth ? 

But the world may consent to forget some 

day. 
And when it has done so, what will you say 
To the grandson sitting upon your knee 
As he shows you his book, saying: "Grand- 
pa, see! 
Here is where, in the great world war. 
We lost a thousand men or more"? 

And when he turns and looks up at you, 
Saying: "Tell me. Grandpa, what did you 

do?" 
Slacker, you'll sit in your big arm chair 
Wishing that you had been over there. 
And you'd give your life for the right to 

say: 
"I fought for God and the U. S. A." 

Cook Fred Sauter, 
(With apologies to Palmer Kiser, 332nd 
Infantry, Camp Kearny. ) 

40 



THE GAS AND THE MASK 

We were hanging around in the bathhouse 
At the end of a weary day, 
And most of the boys were peevish, 
In fact they were all that way. 

The reason it was easy enough to be seen 

And no one needed to ask. 

For we all knew that the boys had been 

wrestling. 
All day with that tricky mask. 

It seems to me that once I read 

Of the doing away of Gas, 

But it seems old Bill of "Kultur" fame 

Has brought it again to pass. 

And as a result of his treacherous work 
Today was spent in a trench. 
And after a lecture on gases and things. 
They loosed a horrible stench. 

'Twas for instruction's sake, they said, 
And I guess they were right, 
But all it did for me was to skin my face, 
For my mask was too damned tight. 

I stood right up with the best of them 
And the tears rolled down my cheek, 
But I donned my mask and said a prayer 
That the old bag wouldn't leak. 

And after all, there's one more thing, 

A question I'd like to ask 

From someone who knows, which is the 

worst — 
The gas itself or the mask? 

Corporal J. C. Conlon. 



41 



A SOLDIER'S REVERIE 

When memory keeps me company and 
moves to smiles or tears, 
A host of joys I used to know loom 
thru the mist of years; 
Their memory scarcely smoldered, but 
soon was burst to flame 
When unto me the luxury of civil life 
once came. 

It happened in a city from Kearny's camp 
not far, 
Where people live — enjoy life — no care 
or grief to mar. 
I saw the city in its life and tasted once 
again 
The long-forgotten beverage forbidden 
army men. 

Life was no longer dreary, but one ka- 
leidoscope 
Of purple bliss instilling new-born tran- 
scendent hope; 
The clouds that hovered o'er my life gave 
way to azure skies; 
I lived as I had lived before in days 
not long gone by. 

That in the lap of luxury my lot could be, 
to sit 
Forever as I sat that night 'midst 
laughter, joy and wit, 
Regarding not the world itself with sullen 
skies of gray. 
Creating paradise alone — a paradise to 
stay. 



42 



But sorrow follows happiness, therefore 
the evening passed 
And I awakened from my dreams of 
joys too good to last. 
The cold gray dawn was bound to come, 
and cold it was, indeed. 
For time waits not for any man, not 
even slacks in speed. 

I waited long and hoped in vain, but 
chances they are few 
To dabble in the sea of life and be a 
soldier, too. 
So settle down, ye army men, drift not on 
higher planes. 
But be content with Kearny's life, its 
bitter griefs and pains. 

We have a mission to perform, tho' sullen 
it may seem; 
Until it's finished don't allow your in- 
ner soul to dream. 
For dreaming is a costly art and discon- 
tent ensues 
When wakened from your slumber to 
put on your army shoes. 

But when we're thru with fighting, peace 
will reign throughout the world, 
And our last Retreat is sounded as Old 
Glory is unfurled; 
We'll start where we left off at and our 
former rights we'll gain. 
And drink a drink to Liberty on Second 
South and Main. 

Buckeroo Whitney. 



43 



THE BATTLE 

Loudly was shouted the Gallant Third's 
boast: 

They could beat in all contests the Valiant 
Fourth's host. 

The challenge was flung and the old 
Fourth got sore, 

And they girded their loins for a blood- 
thirsty war. 

The pigskin was kicked till it squawked 

in despair 
And a blood-curdling war cry was flung in 

the air. 
The whistle was sounded, and the battle 

was on; 
No quarter was given and no mercy shown. 

Taylor, he charged like a wild maddened 
bull and Young Fergie Fergus got his 

belly full; 
The prodigous Beattie was knocked on his 

chin 
And Septimus Shepherd was kicked on the 

shin. 

Shy Chauncey, he fought like a wolf from 

the wilds. 
But baffled, was thrown by the fierce, 

fearless Childs; 
Sergeant Richins and Kearns then went to 

the mat 
And Emery soon found he was minus a 

slat. 

Bloodsmeared but undaunted. Bold Kelly 

fought on 
And ferocious Young Winters no peril did 

shun. 
While Elwood's red head, like a beacon 

of fire, 
Was too often quelched underfoot in the 

mire. 

44 



'"Tis a bloody affray," quoth Bald Dave 

to O'Brien; 
*"Tis the truth, as I live, I think some 

will be dyin'." 
And wise William Cope agreed in like 

manner 
That few would survive to follow war's 

banner. 

The score is a matter of little regard. 
But duty compels me to add a brief word: 
Bouncing Boy Bub went to sleep on the 

field 
And they carriea him home on the back 

of his shield. 

When the fracas was ended a truce was 

declared 
And the wounds were patched up and the 

honors all shared; 
Then a banquet was given and harmony 

reigned. 
And pledges were made that peace be 

maintained. 

With speeches and song they buried the 

axe. 
And now I've recorded the absolute facts, 
Where once hatred was, there is calm 

friendship now. 
And we use Slusser's favorite saying, 

"Here's How!" 

Corporal G. P. Child. 



45 



A VISION OF BATTERY E 

Eugene Slusser, comrade of the boys in 

Battery E, 
Despoiled of his soldierly attire 
And without the companionship of Tommy 

Keans and Philo Childs, 
Upon the fifth of August, '25, sat sadly 

musing of those alive 
Who had so gallantly stood the strife 
Of German musket, bayonet and shell 
And wondering that he alone of that vast 

throng 
Had been spared the attacks of the hosts 

of hell; 
And in the musin's o'er and o'er again 
The thoughts of the comrades who had 

been slain 
Had been uppermost. 
Then all of a sudden he heard the beat 
Of the old snare drum and marching feet. 
And saw a column of fours appear, 
It seemed 'most ten miles from front to 

rear, 
O'er the hill and into the valley; 
There at the head rode Sergeant Kelly, 
With boots and spurs bright as a dollar, 
And there were the cross-guns upon his 

collar. 
As those valiant troops came nearer and 

nearer 
The commands of its officers were clearer" 

and clearer, 
And aside the dust he could plainly see 
That the men in command were froni 

Battery E. 
He rose to his feet and began to cheer 
The valiant lads who knew no fear; 
He moved his hat and sang aloud. 
But the vision was vanishing to the cloud. 

46 



He stretched his hand to the rail running 

near, 
But just then a pain shot through his ear 
And he realized with a touch of grief 
That he was obeying the commander-in- 
chief. 

Coii3oral Blackhurst. 



A MEAN MAN 

'Tis the eve of Slusser's parting; 
We all hate to see him go; 
Our eyes are almost smarting 
From the tears that are about to flow. 

Leaving Battery E forever, 

He is going far, far away, 

And when he's gone we'll endeavor 

To continue as happy and gay. 

We know the doctor tha^ twisted his drum 
And made him deaf in one ear; 
We know he's the dirtiest kind of a bum; 
We speak so all can hear. 

Tonight we are trying hard to forget 
That tomorrow he gets his discharge. 
We wish the Doc. was out on the range 
When we're about to fire a barrage. 

We're down at the ti-ain with dear old 

'Gene, 
We're all about to cry; 
Every man uncovered his sorrowful bean 
When he had to say good bye. 

Private Emeiy. 
(Wag. Slusser's ear was not jazzed up by 
army physicians.) 

47 



MULVEY, THE OLD TOP-SOAK 

When the weary soul of the soldier is 

roaming on dreamland's shore, 
And Morpheus claims jurisdiction over the 

god of war, 
When army life is forgotten and memories 

hold full sway — 
Who tumbles your castles to debris and 

summons the dawn of day? 

When tired and foot-sore from drilling, 

you go to the K. of C. 
To wile but a few shorts hours, even as 

you and me, 
And you soothe your soul with the music 

from the 160th band — 
Who hunts you, confines you and gives 

you the sting of the ruling hand? 

When Major Christopherson's pleasant and 
marks you from drill immune, 

And you picture yourself for some bunk- 
fatigue all morning and afternoon; 

When you need a good rest from drilling, 
which has sapped all your strength 
and pep — 

Who scours the camp to put you to work 
in order to hold his rep? 

It's Mulvey, Mulvey, Mulvey, the 

old top-soak; 
For the breaking of non-coms is 

hobby, 
And non-coms do hate to be broke. 

But, fellows, concluding this ditty, I'll add 
just a couple of lines 

To top off the faults of Mulvey, for some- 
where the sun still shines; 



48 



Just wait 'till we're all under fire and the 
shells from the enemy burst 

Close to the battery's position and the 
wrath of hell's at its worst? 

Who'll be with us in the thickest and 

cheer us with, "Follow me?" 
Who'll lead us to drive the Germans back 

to eternity? 
Who'll fight to the end with the best of 

us and always be there for more, 
And who will we follow thru hell, boys, to 

knock on the Kaiser's door? 

It's Mulvey, Mulvey, Mulvey, the 

old top-soak; 
For fighting is habit with Mulvey 
In the face of the battle's smoke. 

Corporal W. AV. Whitney. 



BUB, THE BUCK 

As a poet I'm certainly not up to much. 
So please don't think I am posing as such. 
I am just a plain "buck" — buck private, 

I mean; 
To get any higher I never dare dream; 
I know for a fact I am no General Strong, 
As everything I do, I seem to do wrong; 
I also admit I'm a sort of a crab; 
I feel very sure such things get me in bad. 
So the best thing to do is to quit crabbing, 

I guess. 
And maybe some day I'll be among the 

best. 
I say not a word about my hard luck. 
Just stay on the job and let them pass me 

the buck. 

Private L. H. Young. 
49 



WE'VE DONE OUR HITCH 

I'm sitting here thinking of those things I 
left behind, 
And I hate to put on paper what is run- 
ning thru my mind; 
We've dug a million trenches, and cleaned 
ten miles of ground. 
And a meaner place this side of "H — 1, 
I know," is still unfound; 
But still there's one consolation — gather 
closely while I tell: 
When we die we're bound for Heaven, 
for we've done our hitch in h — 1. 

We've built a hundred kitchens for the 
cooks to stew our beans, 
We've stood a hundred guard mounts, 
and cleaned the camp latrines; 
We've washed a million mess kits, and 
peeled a million spuds; 
We've rolled a million blanket rolls, and 
washed a million duds; 
The number of parades we've made is cer- 
tainly hard to tell. 
But they'll not parade in Heaven, for 
they did their hitch in h — 1. 

We've killed a million rattlesnakes that 
tried to take our cots. 
And shook a hundred centipedes from 
out our army socks; 
We've marched a hundred thousand miles, 
and made a thousand camps, 
And pulled a million cactus thorns from 
out our army pants; 
And when our work on earth is done, our 
friends behind will tell: 
When they died they went to Heaven, 
for they did their hitch in h — 1. 

50 



When the final taps are sounded, and we 
lay aside life's cares. 
And we do the last parade up the shin- 
ing stairs. 
And the angels bid us welcome and the 
harps begin to play. 
We can draw a million canteen checks 
and spend them in a day; 
It is then we'll hear St. Peter tell us 
loudly with a yell: 
Take a front seat, Utah Regiment — 
you've done your hitch in h — 1. 
UnknoMTi. 
145th Field Artillery. 
Camp Kearny, Linda Vista, Cal. 



51 



STORIES 

We were gathered in a circle 

In Sergeant Kelly's tent; 
We had to gather somewhere. 

Our monthly pay was spent. 
A motley crowd, yet all had come 

To pass the time away. 
They're plotting 'gin the Government, 

I heard a private say; 

But no, the Irish Corporal, 

The newest Wagoner 
Were peddling out the rumors 

And we all wished to hear. 
"We're going in a week, boys," 

'Twas Hinckley had the dope; 
Sarge Timpson asked him "Where — 

Hawaii?" But Chick said "Nope; 
The week from next we'll be 

Going straight to Old Ft. Sill." 
"Aw, shucks," said Cheerful Hebe, 

And reached for his pipe to fill 
With Tux that belonged to Sid, 

"The Captain gave not us, 
We couldn't have that luck." 



52 



Then Sidney raised a fuss 
Because he bit his pipe; 

We all took turns at telling 
Our individual tale. 

We had a time in quelling 
A riot when all were through. 

We went to American Lake, 
To far-away Japan, 

And had a chance to take 

A trip to Yucatan — 
It's hard to guess the stories 

We would have heard by now, 
If Sergeant Major Gorey 

Had stayed away that night. 
He got his turn at taps 

And pulled the prize of all. 
He tickled all the chaps; 

His gag was this: "Now boys, 
A note came in today 

That orders our brigade 
To Garfield far away; 

They need three thousand there 
To make the smelters pay." 

Corporal H. Mays. 



53 



"AN ODE TO THE ARMY" 

(Another Battery E Sergeant who proved 
worthy) 

We sought for the Army and found it, 
Thanks to those ambitious young youths 
Who got us to join this blamed outfit. 
Where we get nothing more than abuse. 

I was a young Corporal when it started, 
Who thought he was superior to one 
And he was the tall President who parted 
After the Civil war was won. 

We're all in the Army for Liberty, 
We're all in the damned thing for peace, 
But the largest and most talked about 

question 
Is when the great conflict will cease. 

We go to the library, that's crowded. 
Where the boys have rumors galore. 
Where the boys come to shave and take 

showers. 
Where some of them smoke and keep 

warm, 
Where the perfume is not like the flowers 
On the girls we fellows used to swarm. 

We sought for the Army and found it, 
But what I have told you 's not all; 
It's the tantalizing, nerve-racking music 
That comes with the bugler's first call. 

We get well on the sweet road to dream- 
land. 

Then all of the world seems to fall 

When the bugler comes out with that 
blasting. 

Oh God, how I hate that first call! 

Lieutenant L. E. Evans. 

54 



A SOLDIER'S DAY 

I hear the call of reveille, 
I love to hear it summon me; 
I love to get up early, too; 
I do, I do — like hell I do. 

Assembly is the next call blown; 
Each man his whereabout is known, 
And roll-calls are in order now . 
Next comes the cheerful call for chow. 

The call for "chow" is joy to hear, 
The boys all flock from far and near, 
On hardwood benches now they sit, 
And clean up breakfast every bit. 

Now sick-call blows at seven-fifteen; 
The sick, lame and lazy on each other lean. 
To the hospital they go, and what a sight, 
Iodine and pills are the "Sawbones" de- 
light. 

First call for drill is next in line. 
And this we greet with wail and wliine ; 
We all "right dress" at John s fall m. 
From Beattie fat to Geoghan thin. 

Recall, she is blow ver' soon, 
She's only one-half hour 'fore noon; 
Of all those call, I lak dis bes , 
Mon Dieu! Unless she might be mess. 

I hear the mournful call of taps; 
The boys have finished shooting craps. 
They've finished playing "jawbone, too, 
With its U. O. me and I. O. U. 

Now this is the end of a soldier's day, ^^ 
From early dawn 'till he "hits the hay. 

F. P. Jones. 
55 



TO THE SPECIAL DETAIL 

Probably you hear of this often, 
But I'm going to give you the facts; 
They say how to work we've forgotten, 
But the Special Detail does their tasks. 

They say as how we are all loafers, 
And no doubt some of them are. 
But the average fellov/s are workers 
And will be all through the war. 

Just a few words to inform you. 
For I'm sure just a few will do. 
That the fellow who enters the Detail 
Must "cut the buck" or "skiddoo." 

One day we receive and send buzzer. 
We get lots of drawing and sketching; 
The next we do squads right and left, 
And rifle drill, all we're desiring. 

For awhile we tended the horses. 
And of that we had our fill; 
But all things take their courses. 
So now that's not in our drill. 

Our officers are always working. 

The non-coms are diligent, too, 

But the privates deserve all that's coming, 

They do more than the average two. 

Now I'm not the least bit radical — 
Personally, the gun section for me — 
But I'm sure you'll agree that they're 

workers 
And will wager they always will be. 

Corporal Price Willey. 



56 



THE SOLDIER BOY 

When it's Reveille in the morning and the 

sun is breaking through, 
And the breakfast begins to glisten, like 

the good old home town stew, 
I look across to Officers' Mess and it 

makes me kinda blue; 
When it's morning in the camp, dear, my 

thoughts go back to you. 

When the sun is up in Cal. and the sun 

is mighty hot, 
And it's hard to drill and sluffing is easy 

to get you caught 
I've got to grin and bear it, I've got to 

see it through; 
To make the burden lighter, dear, my 

thoughts go back to you. 

When the sun has passed the skyline and 

the afterglow is red 
And the silver moon is shining on my 

weary sleepless head, 
I'm feeling kinda lonely like — I know 

you're lonely, too; 
When, the sun has passed the skyline, 

dear, my thoughts go back to you. 

When the aeroplanes stop flying and 

bombing No Man's land, 
When the Germans stop their raiding far 

beyond our peaceful land. 
And the Kaiser doffs his helmet to the old 

Red, White and Blue, 
When it's calm in old France, dear, then 

I'll come back to you. 

Sergeant Tommy Keams. 



57 



THE "SMOKER" 

(Written on the occasion of the Battery 
"Smoker," March 10, 1918.) 

Boys, this gathering here tonight is more 
than a jubilee; 
Its meaning is strong, significance great 
— a feeling of sadness to me. 
We call it a smoker — it is one — a smoker 
for fair — no joke, 
And we'll try to forget our troubles in 
the clouds of a good old smoke. 

We'll try to forget we're soldiers — drift 
back just a couple of years; 
We'd be seated in large cushioned rock- 
ers 'midst happiness, joys and 
cheers; 

We'd be singing and laughing, regardless 
of life and its bitter trials, 
And the lines of our solemn faces would 
be changed and transformed to 
smiles. 

Then let it be this for the evening — just 
picture yourself as above. 
And make it an evening of gladness — 
a taste of the life we love. 
Forget that we're in the mess hall, a hard 
wooden bench for a seat, 
And picture yourself in a club room in 
a chair and a stool for your feet. 

Let Philo, the fearless, be spokesman, 
dolled up in a dress suit affair. 
And as he arises, a toast from his lips, 
each man raise his glass in the air. 
He'll call on us — use his own judgment, 
let not a man protest — 
But arise as you would at a banquet, 
whatsoever he asks do your best. 



58 



With Philo, the fearless, as spokesman, 
what else could we add to this? 
For leave it to Philo, the fearless, and 
pleasure will ne'er run amiss. 
With this man's illustrious presence, com- 
bined intellectual powers, 
We'll cheer up the morbid and banish 
. the gloom to this great little ban- 
quet of ours. 
So much for the meaning, now let us 
speak of significance great. 
For this may prove the parting for some 
of the boys to a sort of indefinite 
fate. 
The future that lies before us holds little 
and counts for naught, 
'Till the wages of war are all ended and 
the end of our battles fought. 
No one knows when we'll all be together, 
no one knows v/hen this time will 
come, 
Tho' we're hoping and praying it won't 
be long, its bound to be long for 
some. 
We can't all return from this conflict so 
we'd better right now join hands. 
Leaving fate with our lots to juggle 
while we're fighting in foreign 
lands. 
So here's to the Battery boys, until we 
can all meet again, 
When we've everyone done our duty 
for the sake of the children of men. 
And if some of us fail to answer when 
our final retreat is blown. 
We'll know they'll be ready to greet us 
in the realms of the Great Un- 
known. 

Corporal W. W. Whitney, 
Poet Laureate Battery E. 

59 



i>nn9a 



TO OUR ABSENT NON- COM 

(Corporal Taylor was recovering from an 

operation in the Base Hospital at 

the time this was written.) 

We paid our tribute to Slusser, 
And most of our farewells done, 

But there's a lad in the Hospital lying 
Who's not sharing his comrade's fun. 

He is one of the Battery's bright lights^ 
Was the first of our lot to enlist, 

When the call of Columbia sounded 
His fighting blood couldn't resist. 

He's a man among men in the making, 

A gunner of National fame, 
A Non-Com. of the gallant third section, 

More honor and power to his name. 

Ray Taylor's the lad I refer to, 
A friend and a soldier so true. 

We wish you were with us to night, Corp., 
A speedy recovery to you. 

Sergeant Thomas Keams, Jr. 

(This song was awarded second prize in 
the recent song contest.) 



63 



WHEN E BATTERY MARCHES HOME 

(Time — When Joluiny Comes Marching 
Home). 

When E Battery marched away to war — 
Hurrah! Hurrah! 
Our sweethearts whom we all adore — 

Hurrah! Hurrah! 
They said goodbye 
And then did cry 

As they wiped a tear-drop from their eye 
Oh, we'll all feel gay when E Battery 

marches home. 
We'll all feel gay when E Battery marches 

home. 
When E Battery goes across the sea 

Hurrah! Hurrah! 
To blaze a path to victory 

Hurrah! Hurrah! 
With shrapnell shell, 
And gas as well, 

We'll blow the Kaiser's troops to Hell, 
And they'll all feel gay when E Battery 

marches home. 
They'll all feel gay when E Battery 

marches home. 
When E Battery marches home again 

Hurrah! Hurrah! 
You bet we'll never roam again 

Hurrah! Hurrah! 
To Salt Lake town, 
We'll bring renown. 

And we'll all get married and settled down 
And we'll all feel gay when E Battery 

marches home. 
We'll all feel gay when E Battery marches 
home. 

Gunner Bill O'Brien. 
(This song was awarded third prize in 
our song writing contest.) 
64 



(Sung to the Time of Tipperary) 

When out in Dear Old Utah 
Came the call for volunteers 
They organized E Battery 
And we signed up for six years, 
We're going to get the Kaiser 
And we'll get Von Hinden, too, 
And to our Uncle Sammie 
We'll always be true blue. 

Chorus — 

It takes a long time to get the Kaiser 

Its a long way to go, 

It takes a long time to get the Kaiser 

The damndest man I know, 

Cheer up poor old Belgium, 

London and Pairee, 

For we're coming over there to help 

you, - 
Fighting Battery E. 

They sent us to Camp Kearny 
They said it was to train. 
We tramped around in all the dust 
And worked in all the rain. 
We mucked out to the gunpits 
Where we learned to use the pick. 
But in all the work and trouble 
We were never known to kick. 

Choiiis — 

Now listen. Dear Von Hinden 

And take a little tip 

You'd better tell old Kaiser Bill 

To take a little trip. 

For we are comeing over there. 

The boys of Battery E, 

And if we get ahold of him 

He'll sleep beneath the sea. 

Private Sam Baird. 

65 



I GOT MORE THAN MY SHARE 

God gives the non-coms, their wisdom, 
And he sends all skinners their dreams. 
To each cannoneer and skinner to pray 

for each other, 
For they all get Hell so it seems, 
The Buck Private knows he is forgotten, 
And the non-coms, he sure rubs it in. 
But, never you mind, for in airies you'll 

find. 
The Buck Private gets more than his 

share. 

By H. C. Hinckley. 

(Honorable mention in song contest.) 



66 



(Tune — If You Saw What I Saw.) 

If you see what we see 

You'd join Battery E 

And sign your name with ours to go to 

war, 
We're jolly, but just the same. 
We're willing to play the game. 
And the fellows they have got the right 

idea. 
If you see what we see 
You'd join Battery E, 
And fill a vacancy, they're going fast. 
Rich man, poor man, beggars and others, 
All together and all like brothers. 
Oh you ought to get in with that bunch of 

ours. 

(This song was awarded first prize in the 
song contest.) 



67 



(Tune — Drunk Last Night.) 

Signed our names, couldn't do any more, 
Left Salt Lake and we're bound for th% 

war, 
We all got together in Battery E, 
And now we're training for democracy. 

Chorus — 

Glorious, glorious, our four-point sevens 

are notorious, 
When the Kaiser hears there's but four of 

us 
He'll thank his lucky stars there's not 

more of us. 

Drill today, drill the day before. 
Getting us into shape to go to war 
Expect to leave most any day. 
Awaiting orders to get in the fray. 
Choius — 

Kaiser Bill is bound to see 
Some cold steel from Battery E, 
Trained on the guns and good at that. 
We'll send a few bullets through the 
Kaiser's hat. 

Chorus 

When we return Old Glory unfurled. 
Democracy and peace throughout the 

world. 
We'll all get married and settled down. 
Starting life anew in our old home town. 
Chorus — 

W. W. Whitney. 



68 



(Tune — Casey Jones) 

Come all you soldiers if you want to hear 
A story of a Captain that we have right 

here, 
Albert Meyers is the Captain's name 
In the regular army, boys, he won his 

fame. 

The bugler called Meyers at five-forty-five, 
He woke with a start to be sure he was 

alive. 
To Lieutenant Young he sped with his 

orders in hand, 
Said I'm going to take these bucks thro' 

the old German land. 

The Captain said, "Just before we depart," 
There's one thing that surely 'd be the joy 

of my heart; 
Lieutenant Young said, "What can it be," 
Captain answered, "Tommy Kearns and 

Kelly doing K. P. 

Chorus — 

Captain Meyers, he is stern as Teddy, 
Captain Meyers he has set the pace, 
Captain Meyers he is there and ready. 
And so we're going to fight and win this 
German race. 

Private George Fox. 

(Honorable mention in song contest.) 



69 



(Tune — Battle Hymn of the Republic) 

In Battery E you'll find a class of men 

you cannot beat, 
For we possess the kind of nerve that 

never knows defeat, 
No matter where war places us we never 

will retreat, 
Our Flag will lead us on. 

Chorus — 

Marching, marching on to victory. 
Marching, marching on to victory. 
Marching, marching on to victory. 

Our Flag will lead us on. 
We'll right the wrongs of Belgium and 

we'll aid our sister, France, 
With bursting shells and shrapnel balls 

we'll make the Kaiser dance, 
We'll down blood-lusty tyrants, give 

democracy a chance, 
Our Flag will lead us on. 
Repeat Chorus — 

Sergeant Richins. 
( Honorable mention. ) 
(With apologies to Captain Meyers, Lieu- 
tenant Young, Sergeant Kearns and 
Sergeant Kelly. ) 



70 



(Sirng to the Tune of Mother) 

M is for his Military Manner 

E is for his Earnestness sincere, 

Y is for the Years he served his country 

E stands for his Early volunteer 

R is for Battery E — his Reward, 

S is best wishes for Success — 

Our Captain's going to leave us for a 

while, boys. 
Are we going to miss him? Yes, yes, yes. 



y 



71 



1 



ARTS a CRAFTS PP 

FIRST AND F STRF 
SAN DIEGO. CAL 



